From Santa For Christmas 2016 (incision is not what I asked for) / by Reginald Crump

They test my blood. I lay there for a while with my mom by my side. My dad waits in the waiting room. This was comforting. Hospital visits are something I've done very little of.

“Have they forgotten us in this room?”

My mother reassured that she's witnessed too many times to count, extended periods of waiting. Waiting endlessly for the return of the Dr. with an answer. Any answer at all. 

They returned with more info only to leave again. But this time my mother understood that she could take my father home, give him lunch and return after. After all, our house (where I spent the first 18 years of my life) is literally 5 minutes away, across the railroad tracks. So, she left, knowing she'd be closer enough to return once the diagnosis was provided.

 Christmas 2016 (things I didn't ask Santa to bring)

Christmas 2016 (things I didn't ask Santa to bring)